


Frankie's Christmas Wish

by TheEvilFairy



Category: Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Christmas, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Shotacon, Transformation, catboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 20:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17169125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEvilFairy/pseuds/TheEvilFairy
Summary: Mac wants to ask Frankie for a dance at Foster's Christmas party, but she has a serious case of the holiday blues. Mac tries to cheer her up and find out why, with results that they never could have predicted.





	Frankie's Christmas Wish

 

It was Christmas Eve and Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends was lit up like a Christmas tree. A few of the friends with musical appendages had started playing an impromptu rendition of ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ and most of the other friends were dancing along. But one blue, cylindrical figure was hovering around the buffet table, chowing down on the iced tray of cocktail shrimp any time Mr. Herriman turned his back.

“Bloo!” the sudden call from behind made Bloo start and swallow a couple of shrimp tails. He turned to see his young creator, Mac, standing behind him with a faintly worried expression on his face.

“Jeez Mac, don’t scare a guy like that!” Bloo protested, already reaching back for another shrimp.

“What’s got you so jumpy?”

“Herriman’s being a real jerk about the snack situation,” Bloo said, rolling his eyes. “So what if I had like five or six...dozen...shrimp? It’s on a buffet, that’s first come first serve!” He shoved a few more into his mouth and spoke around them. “So what’s up?”

“Have you seen Frankie around? I wanted to ask...I mean tell her something.”

“Gonna ask her to dance, huh?” Mac started to blush but Bloo cut him off before he could start to protest. “No, no I get it! I saw her in that little Santa dress, with the candy cane tights. I haven’t seen her in a while, but here, wear this.” From seemingly nowhere Bloo pulled out a black top hat with a sprig of mistletoe on the brim. “It’s cheesy, but she’ll think it’s cute, trust me.” Bloo’s eyes widened and he ducked under the table. “You never saw me!”

There was a hopping sound from behind and Mac turned, not surprised to see Mr. Herriman. “Ah, Master Mac. Enjoying the party?”

“Um, ye-”

“Good, good. I say, your friend Master Blooregard isn’t anywhere close by, is he? He’s taken far more than his fair share of the provided food already.”

“Um...I don’t think so...” Mac said, stepping to the side to hide a blue hand slipping up from under the tablecloth towards the tray. “Say, Mr. Herriman, you haven’t seen Frankie, have you?”

“Not recently. I’m afraid this sort of holiday festivity occasionally makes Miss Frances feel a trifle morose. Not uncommon, I’m given to understand.”

“Why would-”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure everyone’s having fun within the appropriate bounds.” Mr. Herriman hopped off into the crowd, and Mac began making his way towards the stairs.

“Oh, whoops! Sorry!” The tall, gangly friend Wilt was crossing through the room and had to make a big step to avoid putting his foot on Mac. “Hey man, nice hat.”

“Uh, thanks Wilt. Have you seen Frankie?”

“Sorry, but the last time I saw her was a little while ago. She was standing up there,” Wilt pointed up to the railing close to the second floor. “She actually looked kind of bummed.”

“Do you know why?”

“Not really, sorry. She gets that way at Christmas, sometimes. We try to give her some space, if that’s okay. It never lasts long.”

“Huh. Okay, thanks Wilt!” Mac continued towards the stairs with a wave that the tall red friend returned. Mac headed upstairs, the sounds of the party below fading away to a low hum. Now Mac really was getting a little worried. He _had_ planned to ask Frankie to dance, it’s true. She really had looked incredibly pretty in that low cut, red velvet dress with white trim, and those leggings with the thin red stripes. She even had a matching hat….it was really, _really_ cute. But after everything everyone had just said...why be sad at Christmas?

Well, even if she did want some space, Mac wanted her to know he was there if she needed him. So he didn’t hesitate a moment when he reached Frankie’s bedroom door and gave it a polite knock.

“Go away,” came Frankie’s tired-sounding voice. “I’m all partied out.”

“Frankie?” Mac called. “It’s me, Mac. Sorry for bugging you, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” There was a long pause, and Mac felt compelled to push onward. “And, again, I’m sorry if you just want to be alone. I mean, it’s okay you’re not okay, if you just need to deal with it.” This was feeling more and more awkward, but he couldn’t find a stopping point. “But you know...I just wanted to...um...” Mac trailed off as the lock clicked and the door swung open.

“Take it down a notch Mac, you sound like Wilt,” Frankie said, not even looking at him as she immediately turned away from the door and flopped into her easy chair. The little lamp that stood next to it was on, filling the room with a dim yellow glow. Mac stood uncertainly, just inside the door. He noticed the open bottle of wine on the table the lamp stood on, a nearly-drained glass standing next to it. Frankie’s shoes were on the floor, and those candy-striped tights were tossed carelessly on her bed, along with a couple of old notebooks and sketch pads. Mac felt like he was intruding on a private moment...but then Frankie _did_ let him in. Still, he pulled the door closed and locked it again before he stepped further into the room.

Frankie herself was lounging in the chair, her back against one of the arms with one bare leg dangling from the opposite arm and her other leg hanging off the seat. He was struck again by how lovely the redhead looked in the plush red Santa dress. It left her shoulders bare, with a trim of fluffy white along the top that draped along her upper arms and led into the long sleeves. There was a thinner white trim along the bottom of the skirt, which was _quite_ short indeed, and Mac gulped a little as he saw just how much bare leg Frankie was showing. Her hat was still on, but something about the way it hung from her head seemed just as glum as the rest of her. She was looking at something held loosely in her right hand, something Mac couldn’t quite make out in the dim light, though it kind of looked like a stuffed animal.

“So, um...I guess you don’t feel much like partying tonight, huh?” Mac asked, more out of a need to fill the awkward silence than anything else.

“No,” Frankie replied tersely, reaching back behind herself for the wine glass and finishing it off.

“Well that’s okay,” Mac said, forcing an easy tone into his voice. “I don’t always feel like partying either. Sometimes it’s nice to just have a little peace and quiet...” Unconsciously, he wandered to the bed and flipped open one of the notebooks. There was a crayon drawing there, a little girl with wild red hair that Mac assumed was Frankie, hand in hand with an orange figure Mac couldn’t quite identify.

Frankie heaved a huge sigh. “Y’know what this is?” She asked, holding the object up without looking back. Mac could see that it was indeed a little stuffed animal, a little tiger-striped orange cat with a cute smile and red shorts. “This was the present that made me stop believing in Santa for all those years. Or maybe...” With another sigh, Frankie let her arm fall back down and gave the cat a pet with her other hand. “Maybe it just made me so mad I wanted to stop believing. I dunno, it was a long time ago.”

Now that Mac knew what he was looking at, he could see that the figure holding little Frankie’s hand in the crayon drawing was the same cat. “Why would getting that make you so mad?” he asked.

“Because I didn’t want a stuffed animal of him...I wanted _him._ The real thing. I tried and tried...finally, I asked...I _begged_ Santa to help me make him real. But of course, he couldn’t do it. You either got it, or you don’t.”

“I don’t understand,” Mac confessed, looking at the back of Frankie’s head blankly. Frankie still didn’t turn around, but she chuckled a little and Mac got the distinct impression she was rolling her eyes.

“You don’t really get how it works, do you? Even after hanging around here all this time.” Frankie glanced back over her shoulder at Mac with a sad smile. “Look...some kids can create imaginary friends. But some...most, actually, can’t. Nobody knows why. It’s what makes this town so weird. There’s _so_ many more kids who can do it here than anywhere else in the world. We’re like that place in South America with all the twins, but with imaginary friends instead.

“And it’s what made it seem even more unfair that I _couldn’t_ ,” Frankie continued with another sigh. “Grandma’s such a great creator...even if Herriman’s a pain. My Mom and Dad both had imaginary friends...but not me.” She held the toy under its little arms and stroked its head with her thumb. “Not me...”

Frankie slumped a little more in her seat, and Mac turned away with a blush when he realized he could see a peek of bright green panties under her skirt. “It’s such a dumb, dumb thing to feel sad about still,” Frankie said, sounding frustrated. “I mean, I’m in my friggin’ 20’s for crying out loud. Even if I could have created him, that would have been so long ago...it’s just hard to let go of sometimes.”

But Mac, turning away, found himself looking at the drawing again. He thought about how inseparable he and Bloo were...and Frankie had lived at Foster’s basically her whole life. He thought about what that would have been like, to be surrounded by the creations of so many other kids, to want to create Bloo with all his heart, and not to be able to. It didn’t really seem like such a dumb thing to feel sad about.

“What was his name?” he asked softly, turning the pages in the sketchbook.

Frankie let out a little laugh, surprising Mac a little. “You aren’t going to believe it,” she started, but then Mac gasped. He’d just turned to a drawing of the cat by himself, and underneath it young Frankie had laboriously written out ‘Mr. Mack.’

“His name was seriously Mr. Mack?” he asked incredulously.

Frankie laughed a bit harder, leaning her head back and arching her back to finally look back him fully. “Yeah...it’s cause he was like a mackerel-striped cat, you know?” Mac glanced up at her, then glanced away just as quickly when he realized he could see right down the plunging neckline of her dress. But Frankie focused on him, really looking at him for the first time. “Where did you get that hat?” she asked, a bit of teasing humor in her voice.

Mac blushed from his neck to his forehead when he realized he was still wearing the ridiculous top hat Bloo had put on his head. He snatched it off and hid it behind his back, as if that would make Frankie forget she’d seen it. The young boy sighed and let his shoulders slump. “Ah jeez...Bloo gave it to me. He said you’d think it was cute.” The words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could catch them and he winced heavily, his face turning from pink to red. “I...um...I mean...” He trailed off, now holding the hat over his chest defensively with both hands.

“Huh. Well, I guess even Bloo can be right once in awhile,” Frankie said, making Mac blink in surprise. The redhead turned in her seat and stood up, walking over to where the blushing boy stood by her bed. “It is kinda cute.” Frankie took the hat from Mac’s hands and put it back on his head, surprising him even more. “And it _is_ Christmas...and it was awfully nice of you to come up here...I actually do feel a lot better.” Frankie leaned forward, her hands on her bare knees, and gave Mac a soft kiss on the cheek. “You’re a good guy, Mac.”

Mac felt a shocking rush of warmth spread all through him. Unable to stop himself, he started turning his head, moving his own lips closer to Frankie’s...but suddenly his legs very nearly gave out on him. He stumbled forward and definitely would have fallen if Frankie hadn’t been there to catch him. “Whoa! Jeez, it was just a little kiss,” Frankie said teasingly. “You didn’t...Mac?” Frankie mostly carried the young boy to her bed and sat him on the edge of it, and without her support he quickly flopped onto his back, his legs dangling over the side.

“Mac?” Frankie was starting to sound very worried. Mac felt her cool hand on his forehead, and the contact made his skin tingle. “Mac, are you okay? You’re burning up!”

“I...dunno,” Mac said thickly, trying to focus through how warm and foggy his mind felt. “When you kissed me I just...mmm...” Mac made a small sound of protest as Frankie took her hand from his head, and he grabbed at it with both of his own, holding it against his chest.

“Gonna need my hand back, buddy,” Frankie said in a tone of forced humor, trying to pull free.

“Nooo...” Mac half moaned, pulling back so he could rub his very warm cheek against Frankie’s hand. “Please...don’t leave me...stay close to me...”

Frankie paused, sighed and in a moment Mac felt her sit on the mattress next to him. She stopped trying to pull her hand free. Mac felt a huge rush of relief at that, and part of him wondered why, but most of him was just so happy that Frankie wasn’t leaving. Without thinking, he wriggled around until his head was laying in Frankie’s lap. The redhead froze for an instant, then sighed again, brushing his forehead and, coincidentally, fully knocking the hat from his head again.

It took a massive effort of willpower to not jump to her feet and scream, and only the knowledge that doing so would have sent Mac flying kept Frankie seated. As the top hat rolled off the bed, Frankie could see, quite clearly, a pair of very fuzzy orange cat ears poking up from the top of Mac’s head. “Maaaaac?” Frankie said slowly. “It looks like you sort of grew...kitty ears?”

Mac started laughing softly, still gently rubbing his cheek against the back of Frankie’s hand in a way that now struck the redhead as pretty familiar. “I guess I did it...” his chuckles trailed off into something that sounded a _lot_ like purring.

“You did it? You did what?” Frankie demanded, getting very close to pulling away regardless of how Mac felt about it.

“When...” Mac’s cheeks turned very pink as he spoke, “When you kissed me...just for a second, I really, really wanted...to _be_ Mr. Mack for you.” He giggled a little. “It felt...weird. Kind of...how it felt...when I made Bloo...”

Frankie’s eyes widened. “Wait...are you saying you _imagined_ yourself a pair of cat ears? That’s impossible! _Nobody_ can do that! They aren’t friends...they’re part of you!” Looking down at the ears and the way they swiveled and twitched at every little sound, that was pretty obvious.

“Frankie...” Mac’s voice grew softer, and he held her hand to his chest again. He was still very warm, even through his clothes, and he just kept that low, purring rumble in the back of his throat between each word he spoke. She could feel the vibrations against her palm, and on her thighs where he’d laid his head. “I still feel...weird. I feel really weird. I think I need your help.”

Frankie bit her lip and hesitated. Not that she was going to tell Mac, but when she got a little older her fantasies about her would-be creation had started...maturing. There were some other sketchbooks she had stashed away where she’d drawn Mr. Mack much more human-like, and in poses that weren’t exactly PG-13. And her computer had a nice big folder stashed away with a _lot_ of pictures of cute little catboys that had charms very similar to what Mac was offering. About all he was missing was…

Mac closed his eyes tight and winced uncomfortably. He began wiggling his hips and butt around and sighed with relief as a long tail covered in soft orange fur that perfectly matched his new ears snaked out from underneath him. Frankie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, and she let out a soft, shuddering breath. “Oh man...” she whispered.

The little boy opened his eyes again, purring louder than before. “Hey Frankie,” Mac said, his lips curling up in a playful smile. “I just thought of something kinda funny. Can I show you?”

“Sure...” Frankie replied in a dazed, slightly breathless tone.

“Okay...but you gotta _promise_ you’ll stay right there and not move until I’m done. You’re gonna want to, but you’ve gotta stay right there, no matter what. Promise?”

Frankie felt her stomach sink, but at the same time she felt a giddy little rush. _This is_ _ **such**_ _a bad idea,_ she thought to herself. “Just one second,” she told Mac, gently sliding her legs out from beneath his head and standing. Mac propped himself up on his elbows to watch as she returned to her armchair and poured herself another glass of wine that she gulped down in one shot. Then she poured another and sat down in the plush chair, folding one leg over the other. She knew she was showing her panties to the boy sitting on the bed, but she had a feeling that wasn’t going to matter much soon.

“Okay,” she said, taking a sip as the warmth from the wine radiated out from her belly. “I promise. Go for it.”

Mac grinned and slid with boneless grace off the bed and onto the floor. Frankie held her breath as he rose up on his knees and peeled off his shirt, revealing his slender, pale torso. He lowered his head, ears twitching, glancing up to give Frankie a sly smile before he undid the button on his pants. Frankie’s hand tightened slightly around the wine glass and she felt a hot, quivery sensation begin to rise up inside her. He quickly pulled the khakis halfway down his thighs, and looked back up at Frankie hopefully.

Frankie stared for a moment, then laughed. Mac was wearing a pair of red briefs quite similar to the red shorts her childhood pictures depicted her creation in. She took another sip of wine and leaned forward, twining her fingers together and resting her chin on them. “Well, it looks like you’ve got the whole outfit. It must be fate.”

Mac giggled and came down lightly on his palms, pulling himself forward and letting his legs slip free of the pants. Other than his white socks and red underwear, he was now wearing nothing. He crawled forward, his tail waving slowly in the air. He rubbed his naked skin against Frankie’s leg and sat back on his haunches, nuzzling her thigh gently. Frankie reached down and stroked his head, running her thumb along one of his fuzzy little kitty ears. Mac let out a little, blissful mew and leaned into the caress.

“This is the weirdest Christmas Eve ever,” Frankie murmured. Mac cracked his eyes open and nodded in agreement. Frankie leaned far over and blew gently into Mac’s ear. Mac’s eyes rolled back and his mouth dropped open as he shivered in response. “Let’s go back to the bed and make it even weirder,” Frankie whispered.

Mac gave a grin with just the tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth then quickly crawled back to the bed and bounced back onto the mattress. He crouched there, his tail dancing eagerly in the air. Frankie drained her wineglass and slowly and deliberately walked over to the bed. She ran her hand down Mac’s bare back, making him arch his spine and neck with a little meow of pleasure. Her middle and index fingers traced his vertebrae until they found the base of his tail just beneath the waistband of his briefs, and then she ran her palm along its silky length while Mac sighed pleasurably.

The redheaded woman gently took Mac’s bare shoulders in her hands and guided him until he was turned to face her fully. Then she leaned forward, slipping her arms around his neck, and brought her lips to his in a kiss that was much less chaste than the little one she gave his cheek earlier. She opened her mouth and slid her tongue against his as she pushed him back against the mattress. The young woman lay on top of the little catboy, blanking his mind completely with her scent and her taste as she explored his mouth in a deep, slow kiss.

Frankie could feel a little something poking her stomach through her dress, and it made her chuckle drunkenly against Mac’s mouth. She rose up on her knees, straddling Mac’s thighs, and slid her arms free of the dress, pulling it down until her bare breasts were resting on the fluffy white cushion of the faux-fur trim. Mac just stared at the first naked breasts he’d seen in person since he was an infant, his kitty ears perked up fully and a little drool escaping the corner of his mouth.

“Come to Momma, little kitty,” Frankie breathed as she leaned forward again. This time she held herself up by her elbows on either side of his head, pressing his face between her soft mounds. She curled her hands along the top of Mac’s head, running her fingers over his fuzzy little ears. Barely able to breathe, Mac’s mouth opened wide and he helplessly mewed and moaned, his tongue stroking over the soft, sweet flesh that had become his whole reality.

Frankie arched her back, pressing her chest down harder against Mac’s small face, nearly smothering him in hot tit flesh. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt the vibrations of his purring along with his wet, eager tongue lapping all over. His hands came up to cling around her waist, pulling himself even tighter against her.

When Frankie finally rose up again, her breasts were bright pink and glistening, her nipples swollen and stiff. Mac’s face was flushed red and sweaty, his cheeks and chin smeared with his own saliva. His eyes were blank, and his tongue was actually lolling out of his mouth as he seemed to be in a trance.

The redhead leaned back and laid her hand on Mac’s crotch. Beneath the tight red briefs his small cock was stiff as could be, twitching against her fingers. With a rich little chuckle, Frankie slid back and leaned forward, briefly slipping her tongue into Mac’s mouth again, but quickly sliding down his young, slender form, nuzzling his neck, giving his own small, flat nipples a few licks.

“Fruh...Frankie...mmmmmmew! Hnnnn…!” Mac squirmed and writhed under the touch of Frankie’s hands and mouth as she worked her way down his skinny chest, his flat little belly. All he could do was gasp out her name and make tiny mewling noises. Finally, her hands came to rest on his slender hips and her lips mouthed over his belly button and down until she could take the waistband of his briefs in her teeth.

“Such a _good_ little kitty,” she growled, pulling them down. “Good little kitties deserve a very...nice...present!” With one last tug, Mac’s little organ came free, bouncing up and actually tapping Frankie on the nose, making her giggle. His tail came up and curled gently around her neck and his fingers slid through her red hair.

“Please...” Mac begged in a peculiar, purring whine. “Oh Frankie please...”

“Mmmmm...” Frankie opened her mouth and used her tongue to press all three inches of Mac’s eager, hairless cock back against his skin. And when her tongue had covered the whole length and nearly let it pop up again, she moved her head back down and sucked it between her lips. Mac’s thin legs parted slightly and his hips pumped up against Frankie’s face as she suckled gently at his small, twitching cock, sliding her tongue up and down and all around it, especially the tiny head.

Frankie’s head moved up and down just slightly, letting the suction and her tongue do most of the work of pleasuring the small catboy. Her lips would slide halfway up the small, stiff rod, then engulf it back down to the base while her tongue slid circles around it. Mac kept running his fingers through her hair, and his tail slid along her neck and cheeks.

The young, inexperienced little boy couldn’t hold out long, and very soon his hips pulled back from Frankie’s mouth, only to push forward again. His hands were flat against her head, pressing down while he twitched and convulsed against her. “Frrrran..frrrrrr _ooowwwwrrr!_ ” Mac let out a long, squeaking growl as his small cock gave a last twitch and spurted a tiny bit into Frankie’s sucking mouth. Mac fell limp, and Frankie swallowed, letting him out of her mouth with a soft pop. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand as she half sat up next to her young little lover.

She smiled down at him and idly ran her fingers over his bare chest. He looked so cute, his eyes unfocused and in a daze, already half-asleep. It took her a moment to realize that his ears and tail had already vanished. “Huh...” she mused as she stretched herself out next to Mac, cuddling him against her. Mac made a tiny, sleepy sound and cuddled back, resting his cheek against her breast. “Well thanks Mac,” she whispered. “...That was really, really weird. And we probably shouldn’t have done that.” She shook her head with a helpless little chuckle. “But I guess I’m not sad anymore. So thanks. Merry Christmas.” She continued to hold him as he dozed against her, a sweet, adorable smile on his cheeks.


End file.
